Asylum
Copyright© 2026 by Tedbiker
Chapter 1
Hector Finch, ‘Hex’:
I’m no longer ‘Governor’. I am informed I am now ‘High Admiral’ of the Andromedan Space Navy, as well as ‘King’ of the independent state. Thankfully, I have been able to keep the protocol and formality to a minimum, at least within our polity. I am husband to Anya and Romy Lactára, and father to Katya, William, Janet, Ivan and Calista. I suspect there may be more on the way, but that hasn’t been vouchsafed to me as yet. I consider myself the most fortunate male in the known universe to be married to two remarkable women. Anya, daughter of Terra, and Romy, once avatar of Andromeda, now, through advanced science, a living, breathing, mortal woman. Andromeda is a rapidly developing independent system. We were part of the United Federation of Planets, but our constitutional acceptance of ‘non-standard’ relationships has upset significant minorities among the Federation. Gay marriage, for example and multiple partners, not to mention our granting citizenship to Romy who is, technically, a construct.
I am unapologetic. Andromeda is a welcoming planet to anyone who is willing to play their full part in our society, and willing to permit other people their own beliefs. So we have gay and lesbian couples, several relationships with more than one couple, and at least one couple who each have, shall I say, gender identity issues, yet somehow form a solid marriage – with happy offspring.
Although I am nominally in charge, I lean heavily on ‘Andromeda’, the sentient computer which – who – manages the planet. We do have space-faring abilities. One elderly Alpha 10 courier fold-space ship, which brought me here in the first place, and a hangar full of inherited ‘hyper-space’ ships. Mostly transports, but one ‘frigate’. Commanded by Gladys Ross, the ASNS Jason discouraged an attempted invasion by a fundamentalist Islamic polity. Word must have got around, since we haven’t been troubled since. A few – very few – freighters brought needed supplies in exchange for, mainly, advanced science. We could manage without, but didn’t see why we shouldn’t trade with those who were willing. A scan of any arriving ship soon lets us know if it’s a genuine freighter, or an attempted invasion. No polity has attempted military force since.
That’s not to say there hasn’t been some excitement, though.
I was woken in the night by Anya shaking my shoulder. “We have visitors,” she said, once I’d surfaced enough to be compos mentis.
“Oh?” I couldn’t see why that required my attendance in the small hours of our morning.
“Brigadier Abercromby has asked for your presence. He has a platoon of marines holding the visitors, but wishes to consult before making any decision.”
“Okay.” Romy was also awake by that point, so I dragged myself out of bed and dressed. Prompted by Anya and Romy, I did so with more care than I might otherwise have done. Romy, of course, already knew what was up, but she wasn’t telling. She just led the way to the Mass Transfer station.
There, I saw our visitors. They were recognisably like the avatars used by Andromeda, except that they had hair. Green hair, but recognisably hair. Taller than most humans. I don’t know what clued me in, but I thought they were young. The robes they wore obscured any differences in body form, but I thought one face looked feminine.
“What do we know?” I asked the Brigadier.
He shrugged. “Security was called by Andromeda,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Less than an hour ago. It seems that they are from Alef.”
“I thought we’d locked that transit?” I commented.
“Only from this end,” Romy informed me. “If you remember, Hex, you wanted to leave a door open in case they changed their minds and wanted to talk.”
“Oh. I must be getting old. Okay. So, they’re here. What do they want?”
Romy stepped forward and spoke to the couple in the musical, flowing language I’d heard before. The response was immediate, though I saw Romy frown and hesitate before answering. She turned to me. “They wish for ... asylum. They have some dispute with the Alef council which I don’t understand.”
This was, I was sure, potentially explosive. Of course, there were provisions in the UFP laws for a fugitive to claim asylum. Also, now we were independent, we made our own laws. I looked at them.
The feminine one stepped forward, though one hand still held her companion’s. “Please.” Her(?) voice was low, mellow, with a distinct, attractive accent. “We ... wish to be ... free.”
“Romy,” I was thinking fast. “Tell them...” I hesitated, “we will give them permission to stay while they explain their reasons. If we are satisfied they are not criminals under our laws, if they are being persecuted, then ... we will offer them asylum.”
I then spoke to the air. “Andromeda, please assign suitable accommodation to our guests.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty.”
“Andromeda! What have I told you? I’m still Hex. Still ... your friend.”
“But this is a formal, legal, interplanetary matter, Sire.”
I closed my eyes, counted to ten, sighed. “We’ll continue the argument later. For now, have it your way.” Then, “They’d better have an avatar of their choice. They are free to use the public areas, including the Mess Hall. But monitor them and try to find out why they want to move here.”
“Yes, Sire.”
We watched as a default avatar appeared and guided them away. “Romy, there’re all sorts of potential problems here. We have no formal treaty of any sort with Alef.”
“No, Hex, we don’t. But that was their choice.”
The security team glanced at me, and when I nodded, dispersed. “Andromeda...”
“Yes ... Hex.”
“Just in case we have more visitors from Alef – or any of the associated systems – I think I probably should have some formal outfit. A uniform, robes of some sort. But nothing flashy.”
“I will explore the archive, Hex. I would suggest a naval uniform, perhaps with Admiral’s insignia. But many Terran leaders wear just a formal suit.”
“If you could come up with a selection? I’d like to give it some thought.”
“Certainly ... Hex.”
I set the question of our visitors aside, found Gladys and Scott Ross, asked about the training. Scott deferred to his wife with a smile.
“We have four working through the sims at the moment. All will qualify for the transports. We won’t know for sure if any will make combat pilots, though, until we’re a lot further on. Scott and I, well, we only did the basic sims, not the combat ones. It was only when we flew Jason...” she glanced at Scott, “that Scott claimed he wasn’t a combat pilot and insisted I take command of the frigate.”
“You showed the fine judgment, the ... panache...” Scott inserted with a smile. “I’m a good pilot. Just not one with the flair Gladys has.”
“Anyway,” Gladys went on, “we’ll do live flights with the transports and with Jason, with all the trainees. Hopefully we’ll find at least one with the qualities we’re looking for to fit them for co-piloting Jason.” She paused, then continued rather hesitantly, “We could use some of the smaller transports to form an ... early warning system. Our recruits are competent to the extent of managing a transit into hyper-space, and they can continue to train on the simulators. They can take a few cadets with them. Sit outside the Limit, wait, and if threatened, make transit into hyper.”
“Keeping the hyper generator on standby?” I commented, thoughtfully.
“Exactly. We can’t cover the entire approaches, but the most likely, and on the ecliptic.”
“Make it so, Commander. In fact, I think you should have a rank commensurate with your responsibilities. Andromeda?”
“Sire?” I sighed. I thought I was on to a losing position on the matter of status.
“Please record the promotion of the Commanders Ross to naval Captain.”
“Done, Sire.”
Gladys Ross, though, was momentarily stunned, but then stiffened to attention and saluted. A very snappy salute. I returned it. Courteously.
Back at the quarters I shared with my wives, I consulted with them and Andromeda. I chose ASN dress uniform – similar to the Federation pattern, but dark green – with Admiral’s insignia. Additionally, I reluctantly agreed an ‘undress’ uniform, durable fabrics in dull green, with discreet insignia, the sort of thing I could wear every day and would be easy to care for if I had to undertake anything potentially dirty. That was a change from the informal, casual khakis I’d been wearing up to that moment. I grimaced at the change, but had to agree that it made sense.
I took to wandering around the base area and, indeed, touring more widely, making a point of eating in the Mess Hall regularly. Incidentally, that space was officially the ‘Community Hall’, but since everyone was either former or current military, or a dependent, everyone referred to it as the Mess Hall. I also contrived to observe our ‘guests’ as well as receiving reports about them. I was interested to note that, although they were accompanied by a regular avatar, capable of translation, they both were working at communicating in English, despite how laborious the process was. They were both, apparently, using the educational facilities as well as seeking experience in various types of work. I was impressed.
I called a Community Meeting for a couple of days’ time. The population of the planet had grown considerably, and it had been necessary to have elections for representatives of different groups. This was not on a geographic basis, though distant groups such as ecologists studying the ecosystem, needed their own representatives. There were representatives from farming, engineering, maintenance, catering and so on. Probably nearly a hundred people, plus the Brigadier, the Ambassador, myself, Romy and Anya.
I stood. “Citizens of Andromeda,” I began. “Thank you for coming. As you know, I prefer to govern by consent, by consensus, not by fiat. We agreed on a Constitution, but we are faced by a situation which is not directly covered by that constitution. However, the spirit of that constitution is, I think, clear. We welcome people of any race, culture, religion and gender orientation, provided only that they are willing to contribute to our society. A couple of weeks ago, we received visitors from Alef. Remember, the people of Alef, like those of Beth, Gimel and the others, were formerly the owners of this, our home. They ceded it to us, saying they had no further use for it. However, these visitors are not leaders, but rather refugees. They are seeking asylum here. It is my belief that, under the Constitution, we should offer them sanctuary subject to the same rules we apply to everyone. I have called you all here to give you a chance to offer your opinions.”